


They're gonna rip it off (takin' their time right behind my back)

by SecondStarOnTheLeft



Series: We Could Be Heroes [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-08 19:02:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondStarOnTheLeft/pseuds/SecondStarOnTheLeft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Family is family even when you can't stand them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Myrcella

**Author's Note:**

  * For [summerhall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerhall/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If there's one thing Nighthawk hates more than she hates her big brother, it's the Pack.

Myrcella had never been able to decide who she hated most - there were so many people to choose from, after all.

There was Joff, who had Mom's love and Dad's attention. There was Tom, who was happy without all the things she needed. There was Mom, who was a stone-cold bitch and only wanted Jaime, anyways. There was Dad, who could have been brilliant but was a bastard instead. There was Grandpa, Jaime, Tyrion, Stannis, Renly...

Shireen. 

Myrcella  _really_ hated goody-two-shoes Shireen, who'd been a good little girl right through school and never bothered her bony ass to do anything to help the Stags. Oh, sure, the bitch had gotten into Harvard Law, early acceptance or something dumb like that, but she was a prissy little bitch who thought she was better than Myrcella just because  _her_ mom came from the Reach, which was actually pretty fucking new money and vulgar in comparison to the West End.

No, not even Shireen was the worst. 

The worst was the Pack.

 

* * *

 

Myrcella fucking  _loved_ working as Nighthawk - she'd picked the name herself, and she really liked it, liked it more than she liked just about anything except her work boots, which were deliciously light because instead of steel caps in the toes, they had reinforced plastic that was just as useful for breaking bones as the steel would have been.

She'd broken three of Songbird's skinny ribs before the slut managed to dance away, or whatever the fuck all that springing and tumbling shit was - and then, when she'd thought she'd scared the dumb bitch away, she'd landed with her knees between Cella's shoulderblades and her hands pulling Cella's hair just right so she didn't smash her head open on the pavement.

Myrcella, as Nighthawk, had never been beaten by a girl before. She fucking  _hated_ Songbird, because of that and because the stupid whore paraded around in her silver-and-blue  _leotard_ , all shiny and useless, with all that stupid hair. She looked more like a fucking circus freak than a vigilante.

And as for the fucking name?  _Songbird?_ Ooh, the drug dealers would be  _quaking_ in their boots at  _that._ _  
_

* * *

 

The Young Wolf, he was something else altogether.

He wore a lot of grey, just like the old man, but his hair was bright red like Songbird's and he was taller than the Old Wolf, taller and just generally bigger.

He was fucking  _beautiful._ She hated him for that, among other things.

 

* * *

 

Myrcella followed Shireen sometimes, when she was beavering about doing lawyery things, because like  _shit_ she trusted her precious cousin.

And that was how Nighthawk found Aegon Targaryen, returned from the dead.

 


	2. Tommen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommen was his own man, but he was still a Baratheon. Kind of.

Renly had two businesses. Kind of.

Loras was a business all of his own - Renly had trained him since he was a kid, and Loras was the best. The absolute best. Better than Renly had ever been, that was for sure, and Tom was pretty sure Renly loved that as much as anything else about Loras.

And there was the bar, too - it wasn’t officially a gay bar, which was what Dad had always called it in an ugly, mocking voice, but it kind of was a gay bar, except it was for pretty much anyone who wouldn’t be safe in the kind of bars Dad liked, and not at all for the kind of people Dad liked. Tom had always thought of it as a safe place, because it was  _his_  safe place and had been from the moment he walked through the doors for the first time. Renly had given him a job clearing tables during the day when he was fifteen, and Tom had moved in with Renly as soon as he’d been able to succesfully sue for emancipation, six months later, with Renly’s help and Renly’s lawyer.

 

* * *

 

Tom hadn't had it easy, considering he'd had everything.

Thing was, he hadn't had that killer instinct that was so important in their family - he'd hated the violence, which Joff and Cella had relished, and Dad had always been disappointed in him for that. Mum had, too, but she'd generally been too busy fucking about with Uncle Jaime, playing vigilante, to really pay him much attention. She'd loved him - still did - but she'd been disappointed in him.

Mum had tried harder than the others, though, which was why Tom kept in touch with her. He hadn't had much incentive to keep in touch with Cella or Joff since they'd announced that he was as dead to them as Dad at the old man's funeral.

And then he'd been gay, too, and had figured it out when he was about nine and liked to sigh over the posters in Cella's room more than the one's in Joff's. His first crush had been on Loras, his second on Loras' brother Garlan, and his third on Bran Stark. 

His fourth, and possibly final, was on Robin. Tom really, _really_ liked Robin.

 

* * *

 

Working in the bar - which Tom did every moment he could spare around his coursework - was a great way to hear gossip. All kinds of weird shit bubbled up when people were drunk and felt safe, and Tom had an ear for that kind of thing anyway.

Grandfather had once commented on it, saying he was like his grandmother that way, and it was the only compliment Tywin Lannister had ever paid him. 

But gossip poured in and was filtered through the barmen's ears, mostly Renly's and Tom's, because they were big, friendly-looking guys who had a good sympathetic face and a talent for making people talk more than they'd intended on doing.

That was how Tom heard about Joff being shot by Trystane Martell, which surprised Tom. He'd known Trys at school, but he hadn't thought Trys the type to get caught up in the masquerade.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Seven Nation Army' by the White Stripes


End file.
